The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1887-03-03

| 1t may or may not be true that
when the grim monster singles out his
victim he sends him in some way a
spiritual premonition that he is going
to let fly fromDeath's culver the fatal
dart. Be that as it may-I had no
premonition of death.
Not when they stood me up to hear
my ser tence and to answer. nor after
ward in the cool contemplation my
isolated ard silent dungeon afforded;
not when the officer of the day, on
that eventful execution morning, read
to ME in my dungeon the days pro.
gramme and delineated my doom at
the hands of twelve detailed soldiers.
He found me whistling as paced my
narrow cell that morning and exclainl-
ed in surprise:
Good God, captain! what kind Of
q man are you?"
"Oh, 1 don't know; skin and bone;
flesh and. sinews, blood and bile:
Why?'
"Why! Don't you know you are to
be shot to-day? Outside here are the
twelve men detailed to send you into
eternity. You'll never see another
morning? And here y6i are-whist.
lins?'
"Well, why not whistle as long as
possible, and cry when you cannot
laugh?"
Hence,1 may not be able to tell just
how a man feels WHO stares death
calmly III the face, for maybe Ibid not
comprehend my situation.
But was sentenced to death. That
1iully comprehended when they march
ed ire, handcuffed, between two guards
with arms at charge" and bayonets
fixed back. to the prison.: and, instead
OF my formet twelve by twelve cell,
barred and hoited me ID an under:
ground dark, dank dungeon, 8 by 10,
with d tub occupying two feet Of that
sparse space, significantly Suggestive
that was TO stay right there until
the day and hour.
The sentence WAS fully realized dur
ing the sunless days and no darker
nights of the Weeks that followed.
Daylight! Heavens man! you do not
appreciate what ray OF glad, bright
sunlight is until shut IN from all that
makes day beautiful.
Oh, yes; / comprehended, slightly,
that mlne was no trifling sentence. as
| crouci,ed in that felt darkness, wait
ing till dihted pupils enabled me to
lee imperfectly what was the damp.
ness that / touched.
Finally, however, 1 was permitted
to send out and buy 4 lamp, and to
keep it lighted. The walls had been
repeatedly whitewashed; but the hu.
/ mid filth oozing through the bricks
had pushed it off III disco!ored flakes.
! he floor was stone; asolid or cement
ed mass that once neeatived any Nor
ganic idea OF "dig,ing out" Away up
yonder, ten or twelve feet away, was
the arched brick ceiling, whose eweaty
surface told that it, too; was under
sod.
But the dampness and the darkness
and the dirt were but grains Of dust
compared to the unutterable lonli-
ness that grew Upon me in that sep
ulchre. y human soul-not even
a brute, e 1T the scampering rats
to break the stiffness of that murky
tomb! Out yonder, somewhere, knew
treasured tread OF the relief as they
left him on his lonely post. But
never saw or heard him.
Twice day yri:nly silent, came the
cooks detail with my barrack soup
or coffee. But he was mute. under
strict orders not to speak or signal to
the prisoner, as his baker-like shovel
reached in my morsel OF food.
Perdition how / strove to make
him speak! II he only would curse me.
abuse me, anything; even his profan-
ity would have sounded as melody in
my solitude.
1never knew what music there was
in the human voice till in that dun
geon, where it never sounded, and
where l soon grew startled at my
| own.
The post chaplain's was the only
human voice heard for weeks-and
his only once, for my levity shocked
him so that he gave me up as an ire
deemable reprobate. He offered a
prayer for me, however l courteously
kneeling with him on the stone floor.
But he never came again.
He told me-what my occasionally
allowed letters from my friends had
too plainly informed me-that there
was no hope OF escape from the fate
that seemed to them and the outside
world to be staring ME in the face.
Every possible effort has been made,
every available influence pressed into
service with the President, and he had
declined interfering with the Judgment
OF the court martial. The worthy
chaplain said:
Captain, prepare for death, for
your life ends i'll a few days."
| Here WAS iood for reflection, surely.
In the prime and vigor of early man
hood my veins thrilling with the bound
ing energy OF young blood. life
just begun, with it's plans, schemes
and purposes all to work out: a young
wife and two children, with all the
hopes OF Joy existence with them gave;
ambitious walks all wide before me
awaiting to be trod; what burning
pages yet unread in the book of life!
In battle the half-read paragraph Of
life is suddenly left with 4 dash, IAN
unseen, unfelt bullet cuts off without
thought the what might be.
But here alone, in silent darkness,
the heavy wonder would come, $50
strong i'll health and hope Of life, is
death so near?'
Lilies retrospect, as memory was
forced to the review, presented 50
much to be undone, so much vet to
be done, so mnch just begun that
should be finished.
Is it possible that these 1.-the limbs
are to walk out in funeral pageant
my own funeral. Quick, active, firm
as the soldiers who march with me.
Am l to march out with them and
they back without me?
10 go forth from this living tomb,
to give my longing eyes one quaff o
sunlight, and then shut them forever
in the eternal darkness OF deaths real
grave.
Am to die? To be no more? Talk
ed of a day or week. and then forgot
ten? Is it who am to look at those
twelve soldiers in silent rank twelve
PAGES at my front? To hear the com.
mand, "Ready-aim-fi1e!" and hear
the death message, feel deaths bullet,